


Rub Your Eyes

by hub_batch



Series: discomfort revisited [2]
Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: (i would later regret that command), Established Relationship, M/M, Transgender, adventures in gender dysphoria land, also cuddles n Smooches.., also younger pritchard, i wasnt gonna post this but its 3 am and i am filled with confidence, im actually pritchard so here we are, pritchard is a trans man here, trans!pritchard, transphobia warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hub_batch/pseuds/hub_batch
Summary: Pritchard indulges Adam in talking about "before", and in turn dregs up some dysphoria he'd thought he'd left behind.





	Rub Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> look it's my first go at the gays of deus ex. set in some point in HR because i'm a weenie who's only played that

“What was it like?”

 

A cold, quiet night, ice shards pitter-pattering on the window. Adam asked this, softly, the two sprawled out among each other watching some uninteresting movie. Francis yawned, looked up at Adam with cocked eyebrow, “What was _what_ like?”

 

“Before you got your job at Sarif,” Adam clarified, mechanical eyes making minute focuses and unfocuses to read exactly the way Pritchard’s hair fell across his face. “You’re not real open about ‘before’.”

 

A bit pensive but never showing it, Pritchard debated the merits of telling him. Eventually, he landed on two different outcomes: declining to say anything, and letting Adam seek out the information he wanted on his own, or spilling this alluring past and explaining it in all the ways Pritchard wanted- slowly, but truthfully.

 

“I was a contract worker out of college,” he huffed, “Does that do it for you, Adam?”

 

A low rumble in his chest, something akin to a chuckle. The quiet shift, whir of his mechanical arm came up, augmented hand gently threading through long, much cared for locks of hair. Leaning down, almost curling around his lover to whisper, “Don’t play with me, _Francis,_ ” he hummed, but it was only a joke. A chide- he’d never push Pritchard too far.

 

Still debating between his options, indecisive and even _unsure,_ he allowed himself to lean into the stimulation. Reminding himself he could trust Adam. “I made good money being a grey hat,” he smirked a little at the silly title, “And when I found a vulnerability in Sarif Industries’ method of storing employer information, David asked me to work for him. The rest, well, you know that much.”

 

Adam hummed, again, that low noise so very _human_ out of him. “Does Sarif know?”

 

Know, of course. Of course he did. It was the most nerve wracking part, because for all-intensive purposes, Pritchard had been stealth for the better part of a year after college. Everything had been going fine, until he’d opened his mouth during the interview, and the tone and pitch he was cursed with betrayed him once more.

 

Pritchard closed his eyes. “Yes. One of the first...subjects, we discussed. I was not as good looking as I am now, you know.” Adam laughed at that, and Francis smiled too. The humor felt good, normalizing it all, yet the coil of anxiety was taking him down, down…

 

“Sarif, well- he was perfectly fine with it. We discussed how my documents would work, and such. My legal documents are all mostly incorrect.”

 

“Why?” Adam asked, nativity leaking into his voice. Pritchard looked up at him again, and put it simply: “I don’t have a penis, Adam. The state of Michigan thinks men are only men if they’ve got one.”

 

Blink, blink. “I...see. That’s-”

 

Pritchard scoffed, “Invasive, if you ask me.”

 

Adam nodded, processing this as slow as he always did. “Such details are, not for the public.” Pritchard continued, “I was denied a legal name change some odd years ago and felt I was done with the legal system. My...identity doesn’t need to conform to what a few old politicians think is right.”

 

Adam nodded again, silent. Listening, always willing to learn, steadfast in his knowledge that the world was always bigger than what he knew. “Some people feel the same way about augments,” he offered in return. “That the government shouldn’t step in because, then we’re allowing _them_ to shape what human means.”

 

“I’m almost inclined to agree,” he blew out a breath, and leaned back into Adam’s hand atop his head. “But in some ways, they already do that. They define what it means to be one way or another.” He waved his hand, “It’s much bigger than a poor cybersecurity expert like myself can speak for, I’m afraid.”

 

A smile, one you could hear. “But, that’s never stopped you before.”

 

A snort, shake of the head. “No, of course not.”

 

“I guess Sarif took it well, then?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

Anxiety weaved into him deeply, pulling him back to that day.

 

_\--_

 

Furious typing, lights low in the dark of the office. Francis huffed and tugged at his shirt, frustrated by the broken AC. He was long overdue to _leave,_ he felt, putting in more than enough hours in one day to keep the lights on. Sarif Industries was empty, quiet- he liked it better that way. No one around to _bother_ him, no one around to...look at him.

 

Except, of course, when David entered his office with a brisque knock. “Frank- I’m going to have to kick you out soon, you know?”

 

Pritchard glanced at his boss, blinking, realizing how exhausted he was judging by how long it took to process what was said. He nodded, then said, “I’m nearly finished.”

 

There was clearly something else David came for, as he folded his newly augmented arms and leaned against the doorframe. Pritchard turned back to his work, answering emails he neglected throughout the day and finishing up-

 

“Frank. You’re here every Monday, bright and early, and I do appreciate that- but that’s the _only_ day you’re here.”

 

“I get all of the work you assign me done, Mr. Sarif.” Pritchard paused to reply, looking at David. Was it appropriate yet to call him by first name? He was too afraid of the possibility that it wasn’t.

 

“You do. Have no complaints there. But I hired you with the expectation you’d be here more often for day to day issues.”

 

And Pritchard knew that. He even had faith he’d be able to do that. But, that was before he tried and realized that eyes on him and so many voices and chatter and people saying the wrong things made him feel very...bad.

 

“Frank? There’s a meeting tomorrow with our investors, I expect you there. Understand?”

 

Swallow, nod.

 

\--

 

A breath blown out, a sigh. Francis stretched and sat up, “What’s gotten into you that you’re so curious all of a sudden?”

 

Adam’s movements were noted by their whir and mechanical shift as he sat up too. The movie they had been ignoring was over. “Just thought about it.” He responded simply and got up, wandering to his kitchen to pour a drink. Pritchard took to sprawling back out on the couch, taking up all the room he could in the warm absence Adam left behind. His head hung over the edge, watching his fingers hold the small shot glass with a learned delicacy. It was mildly fascinating. The bottle was tipped in suggestion towards Pritchard, and he shook his head. No, drinking would be a poor idea…

 

He watched Adam walk back, augments thumping against wooden paneling. A vague thought about how his neighbors felt about that crossed his mind as he adjusted to allow Adam to sit there again, warm arms returning to rest around his mid. A sigh of content, eyes fluttering closed, and some warm chuckle reverberating down his back. “Careful, Francis. You might just fall asleep here.”

 

“I wouldn't be opposed, you know.”

 

“Neither would I.” Vague thoughts of how visceral Adam could be crossed Pritchard’s mind, in stark contrast to his current demeanor. It was- it was quite exhilarating to know both sides, he thought as he began to drift off.

 

\--

 

Pritchard stood in front of his mirror, endlessly adjusting and re-adjusting his tie in an attempt to look presentable. This was the first time he’d ever had to go to a _meeting,_ with bigwigs who’s wallets were only matched by their inflated egos. The full body mirror was often his enemy, but today he was begging it to give him an image he wanted. He pulled his hair back, tying it up, giving himself one last cursory glance.

 

It would have to do.

 

The walk to Sarif Industries was short, thankfully, but that didn't stop him from nearly being late to the meeting altogether. Too much fussing in front of the mirror, too much avoiding people. He stepped into David’s office and nodded at him, mumbling a sorry for being nearly late. David, on the other hand, beamed at Pritchard, seemingly pleased that he had made it in on a day other than monday. The new hire sat down numbly, acutely aware of at least three pairs of eyes honing in on him and their inherent wonder on _who_ and _what_ he was. He begged for this to go by quick. Something told him it wouldn’t.

 

“I’d like to introduce,” David began once everyone was settled, and Pritchard’s stomach was already churning. “Our newest head of cybersecurity, Francis Pritchard.”

 

Now there were _more_ eyes on him, there were _several_ and he felt extremely nauseated. Slowly his eyes came up to look at the people eyeing him, sizing him up, wondering how long he’d _last._ Which, at the moment, wasn’t long. He slowly raised a hand, and gave a little wave, unsure how to continue.

 

“Is this not the person who found a vulnerability in employee records, David?” One piped up. They must have read the article about it, which made front and center of Picus. (It was a moment of pride for Frank, for sure, and he felt just a bit of that pride swell inside of him.)

 

“Yes,” David nodded, “I brought him on because of that. Who better to fix our problems than the person who found them?”

 

There was a small chuckle shared between Sarif and his investors, and Pritchard took in the different man he saw. How easily he could work the room, how easily he quelled this possible dissonance. It was a skill Pritchard wished he had, envy concentrating in his eventual glare at Sarif. It wasn't intentional, but it brought the attention of David eventually. A pointed look back sent Pritchard in a small panic, realizing his mistake.

 

_Shit,_ he thought as David continued with the meeting- something something money- _I’ve already fucked this up. Shit. Shit!!!_

 

His brain started ringing alarm bells and commanding him to get out of there, but he was glued to this spot- leaving meant surely, surely losing his job and all of this that he worked for-

 

\--

 

A sharp breath sucked in, sitting up abruptly. Pritchard looked around in the din apartment, first alarmed that it wasn't his own, however the memory of the day slowly came back to him. He realized he felt something warm under his hand, and looked back, realizing he had been laying across Adam’s chest. Adam…

 

His partner had woken as soon as Pritchard’s heart rate accelerated, golden eyes glowing in the dark. Wide, somewhat confused. “Good morning, sunshine.” He said, voice gruff with interrupted sleep.

 

Pritchard blinked, sighed, and fell back against Adam. “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly. Mechanical arms returned around him, managing to gather up Pritchard to press against his chest. “I had-”

 

“Nightmare?” Adam probed. The darkness of the apartment made it easier this way, they shared this sentiment. Pritchard nodded, though he wasn't sure he’d call it a full blown nightmare. “Need to talk about it?”

 

Did he? He wasn't sure. “It was the first meeting I had to attend. I hated it.”

 

“Well, you’ve never been one for meetings.”

 

“And this one is why.” Pritchard muttered this into Adam’s side. “I hate eyes on me, Adam. I hate being stared at.”

 

“Why?” Again, there was that nativity. Pritchard groaned. “Why do you _think,_ Adam?”

 

A pause, moment of silence. Adam looked down at Pritchard, his augments allowing him to see more clearly through the darkened apartment. He looked at Pritchard’s mess of a head of hair, the way his bony fingers looped weakly around Adam’s shirt...He found him quite, cute, like this.

 

Pritchard sighed, “Don't answer that.”

 

Before Adam could slip in a ‘why not’, Pritchard answered for him: “Because I’ve always had issues looking at myself. Why would I want someone else looking at me?”

 

Adam wasn’t sure he understood, but he would try- always. “Do you mind when I look at you?”

 

Pritchard looked up, his chin pressing to Adam’s chest. Their eyes met in the dark. Yes, it was easier, easier to tell the truth...

 

“...No, I don't- I don’t think I do.”

 

“That’s good,” Adam replied, leaning down and dropping his voice, “because I like looking at you.”

 

Pritchard was thankful for the dark then, because he was sure that his face flushed deep red when Adam kissed him. He willed himself more confidence and pressed back, previously loose hands gripping his shirt tighter.

 

When they parted, Pritchard laughed, laughed for he was so happy to have someone like Adam. Someone who didn't care. “You’re ridiculous. I love you.”

 

Adam laughed in return. “I love you too.”


End file.
